


Indiscretion

by Sherlock1110



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Confusion, Dom John, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Helpful Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Johnlock - Freeform, Kneeling, M/M, Massages, Nightmares, Sub Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 11:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4519776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt;<br/>Sherlock gives John a back-rub or massages some salve into John shoulder, causing John to make rather obscene noises. Sherlock accidentally calls someone (Mycroft? Lestrade? Sarah?) with his phone still in his pocket so he doesn't notice. They catch the ambiguous noises and snippets of conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indiscretion

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Rub](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4519758) by [sherlockian4evr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr). 



> Beta read by sherlockian4evr

Indiscretion

 

John couldn't sleep that night and he knew as soon as he fell asleep it would be nightmare after nightmare.

Since Sherlock had admitted he preferred the Dom/sub aspect of their relationship full time compared to just the bedroom, John had control over when Sherlock ate and slept. That meant Sherlock actually ate and slept regularly and next to him.

As soon as he drifted off he saw the war, not the action which he thrived off (living with Sherlock proved that), but the death and destruction. He didn't realise he'd been struggling and fighting beneath the sheet until there was a soft voice calling out to him.

“John? John…” then a hand on his shoulder, rocking gently. “Sir? Wake up, it's just a nightmare. You're here with me, in Baker Street. Sir?”

John distantly recognised his sub’s voice but couldn't bear facing him. He rolled over away from the sound and slid out of bed, wincing at the pain that jolted through his shoulder. Memories of the war always jerked him and made pain like lightning fly through his muscles. If it wasn't for Sherlock, he'd probably still limp on mornings like this. He noticed Sherlock follow him from the bedroom cautiously; sheepishly.

John struggled into his coat, whimpering as his left arm twisted to find the sleeve. It was still dark out and nobody was likely to notice the fact that he was in his pyjamas. He just needed a walk; needed to get out.

“Sir, are you alright?”

“I'm fine, Sherlock. Go back to bed.”

“You're clearly not fine. Why don't I put the kettle on?”

“No! I said I'm fine, boy, leave it!” John's tone was snappy, but he didn't care. He didn't feel like dealing with a petulant detective right now.

“But John-”

The Dom growled. They were passed petty respect rules now, weren't they? And his anger wasn't making him any more forgiving.

“Sir. Please don't go. You can stay here. We could talk?” Sherlock sounded unsure of himself, like he didn't know what he should do in this situation. If the doctor had been in his right mind, he would have seen Sherlock's insecurity and wariness; he hadn't approached him, keeping his distance, aware that something wasn't right with his Dom.

“Enough, Sherlock! Why can't you just do as you're told? For once!”

Sherlock swallowed hard, hurt by those words. “I-”

“Kneel!” John barked. He turned and put his hand on the handle, fumbling with it briefly.

Sherlock, of course obeyed. He had knelt in the exact position that he'd been stood in when trying to get across the comforting words he kept stumbling over. So he ended up knelt in the hallway next to the bedroom door.

“Stay there!” With that he slammed the door behind him.

Sherlock sighed. He wanted to get up, go after him but that was a direct order. He daren't disobey it. God knows what John would do when Sherlock found him, punishment no doubt. But surely if that's what his Dom wanted he could oblige, especially if it'll make him feel better.

Deciding to remain where he was he leant his head back on the wall and closed his eyes.

***

At the sound of footsteps coming up the staircase, Sherlock jolted awake. He knelt up straight and slipped his hands behind his back. He looked at the floor just in time for when the key turned in the hole.

The doctor sighed when he spotted Sherlock. He hadn't forgotten about him, he'd just hoped he'd disobeyed and gone back to bed. Of course he hadn't. John had taught him better than that.

When the Dom stepped forward, Sherlock flinched. “I'm sorry, sir,” he said quickly, eyes averted.

John sighed once again. “It's alright, pet.” Taking that as silent permission, Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's leg, seeking comfort.

“Let go,” John ordered a bit more sharply than he had intended. Sherlock jumped back, his hands disappearing back behind him again. He knelt up straight, his knees clicking.

John didn't bother to say anything, he just disappeared through the door to the sitting room. “Put the kettle on. Then kneel again,” the Dom couldn't get rid of the snarky part of his tone. He watched sadly when the sub scrambled to his feet and ran through to the kitchen, no doubt in a hurry to get out the way of his grumpy Dom.

Sherlock appeared with a mug of tea a bit later and placed it on the table beside John where he sat, dozed off in his arm chair, and scurried back to where he had been knelt in the hallway by the bedroom door.

He watched John out of the corner of his eye. He could tell he was struggling with his shoulder just by the way he was holding it. He always did when he woke in the night, but he'd never acted like that before.

The armchair squeaked when John startled awake. He looked around quickly and caught sight of his tea and then his sub over by the bedroom.

“Sherlock?” He called out.

The detective glanced over, fear flashing through his eyes.

“Why are you over there?”

Sherlock's brow furrowed slightly. What did he mean? “You told me to, sir. I'm sorry, sir.”

“Did I?” John didn’t know what his boy was apologising for and he didn’t have the energy to find out what he'd done wrong.

Sherlock still didn't move, but responded dutifully. “Yes, sir.”

“Come over here.” John's tone was gentle but the detective was still wary. He obeyed though. He knew better than not to.

He crawled over and knelt next to his Dom. But not within touching distance, he'd never seen John like this before and he had no idea what to do. Or what he had done wrong, he averted his gaze, focusing on the carpet a few feet in front of him.

“Where's your tea?”

Sherlock shrugged. He had wanted to get back to the bedroom door as quickly as possible and out of John's way given how angry he was, so he hadn't bothered to make himself one.

“Come closer,” the doctor ordered.

The tone of voice left Sherlock wrong-footed… John noticed.

“Come on. I won't hurt you, I promise.”

He moved over cautiously and knelt up beside John, the doctor dropped his hand in his hair, rubbing softly.

“I'm sorry, pet.”

The sub didn't respond and John sighed yet again. He kept tickling and stroking his hair until Sherlock eventually relaxed and his head fell softly onto the doctor's knee.

It was 20 minutes before Sherlock spoke and it was only after John winced for the fifth time.

“Sir?”

“Yes, pet?”

“Can I help?”

“Help how?”

Actions spoke louder than words so rather than respond the detective stood up and found the soothing cream that John used when he'd been punished with the cane or crop. He squirted a generous amount on his hands before he began to rub it in into his shoulder where he knew it ached. It felt good to help his Dom in a way that wasn’t intimate and sexual for a change, not like he would complain if that was what John decided he wanted next.

John initially yelped but then began to moan and groan as Sherlock used long fingers to massage the pain that was still constant.

“Yeah, Sherlock right there.” He moaned again and yelped. “You're an expert at this, pet.”

“Why? Because I'm so used to being the bottom? Letting you fuck me and then comfort me afterwards.”

John cocked his head on one side. “I hadn't really thought of th- ah!”

“Sorry, sir, sorry, it's just you're all tight. My fingers are going to have to do all the work, unless my palm might?” He offered.

John moaned again and was incoherent for a moment before regaining control of his senses. “I th-think your hands are fine, pet.”

***

“Bollocks!” Sherlock growled as he wandered off to put the jar in the cupboard.

John looked over. “Pet?”

He waved the phone that he had just disconnected.

“Who did you ring?”

“It wasn't on purpose, sir, I swear.”

“Who did you ring?” John repeated.

“Molly, sir.” The one person who they'd kept their relationship secret from especially the D/s aspect.

“Making her jealous?”

“That's not what I'm worried about, sir. I'm worried about the intestines she was going to let me have tonight from the morgue.”


End file.
